


dream sweet in sea major

by crookeds



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, must a fic be good is it not enough to yearn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookeds/pseuds/crookeds
Summary: A moment between them before the end.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 14





	dream sweet in sea major

It feels like goodbye. 

Not that such things are obvious with G’raha Tia. It had not been however many years ago, when he had locked himself away in a tower. It had not been so clear, when they had spoken before departing to fight Vauthry —

— but Talla finds himself feeling well learned in the ways that G’raha builds up to let go. He can read between lines and his heroics, and see the signs subtly paint themselves into existence. And when seen, the reaction manifests with a pang of sadness in his chest — inappropriate, maybe, considering the time and place. Considering that his friends risk their lives outside of this Crystal Tower and fight to give him the very little time they actually have. As he lingers and stares after him, hesitation suddenly a vice grip on his movements, heroes appearing around them in righteous, misplaced glory, he speaks anyways. One last time. 

To be sure, at least.

“I will see you again, Exarch.”

His voice is tightly wound. It gives away that unease that he feels; the one that makes him linger and keep his eyes to his face.

“Swear to me that I will.”

There is a flicker of silence that lasts too long. And he invokes his name, suddenly, before it can be broken by the scene that continues to build around them. 

_“G’raha!”_

His name is rarely spoken, even after it is acknowledged. It is always Exarch — to keep up the illusion, maybe, that there is a sense of distance between them still; to continue to acknowledge his never ending duty, up until the very end. He had never asked this of him — but it had come to be like this regardless. His stomach twists into knots as he thinks of the ways he will be remembered afterwards: _The Crystal Exarch_ , rather than my friend, G'raha —

What he might do then, he imagines, is storm ahead and to make sure that he leaves with no regrets, or at least make sure there is one less to carry ahead, regardless of the outcome. His calloused hands brought to his face and no distance between them; nothing left to ponder on their feelings any longer. He would kiss him fiercely, ignoring the desperation crawling up his own throat as he does. He would commit the shape of his lips to his memory, just in case, and make the moment last as long as possible. 

He would push aside the insistence that he hold him and never let go.

All who intrude upon them would be forced to watch the Warrior of Darkness embrace the Crystal Exarch who brought him here. Otherwise Talla might cut them down for interrupting. 

And then he would kiss him once more, softly, before pulling away. He would say his name again, just as gently. Spoken like prayer; kept only between the two of them. 

He wonders if G’raha imagines something similar. If he feels the same. Love seems so silly, all things considered. But love, in its many forms, is the backbone of all of their endeavors, as it has always been. 

Talla knows this now.

Even still, he does not step forward to claim his kiss, because he also knows himself, despite what he imagines. He stays where he is with the understanding that he will not really be able to let him go, when given the chance to finally hold him. He knows that he is not so strong, even if G’raha might insist otherwise. 

Only a second passes as he thinks this. As he comes to terms with it. 

G’raha smiles — all of the reassurance and the confidence of hundreds of years plain on his face. He leans heavy on his staff, the weight of crystal now making it near impossible to stay upright. 

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve, V’talla.”

A beat. His voice is somber then, making a promise. “I will see you again.”

Talla knows it’s all he can give; he knows it's all that he can accept.

No need for goodbye. He refuses it — leaving it unsaid as he turns on his heel and begins to run up the stairs, leaving him behind. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was truly something i wrote at 4am and decided i liked enough to post it on ao3... sometimes we alter canon scenes to fit our vibes.


End file.
